“Here!” he shouted. “Where are you going? That's the landing over there.” “I know,” I answered. “But we shall have to go around that flat. We can't cross here.” “Why? What's the reason we can't?” “Because there isn't water enough. We should get aground.” He stood up to look. “Nonsense!” he said. “There's plenty of water. I can't see any flat, or whatever you call it.” “It's there, though you can't see it. It is covered with eelgrass and doesn't show. We shall have to go a half mile further before we turn in.” “A half mile! Why, confound it! it's past one o'clock now. We haven't any time to waste.” “I'm sorry, but we can't cross yet. And, if I were you, I shouldn't stand up in that boat.” He paid no attention to this suggestion. “There are half a dozen boats, bigger than these, by the landing,” he declared. “There is water enough for them. What are you afraid of? We haven't any time to waste, I tell you.” I did not answer. Silence, on my part, was the safest thing just then. I continued rowing up the bay. Miss Colton spoke to him and he sat down, a proceeding for which I was thankful. They whispered together for a moment. Then he turned to me. “See here,” he said; “this lady and I have an appointment. We must get ashore. Go straight in. If you're afraid I'll take the risk. If there is any danger I'll pay for that, too.” There was no question of risk. It was a certainty. I knew that channel. “We can't cross here,” I said, shortly. “Why, confound you--” “Victor!” cautioned Miss Colton. “Hush, Mabel! This is ridiculous. You and I saw two boats go straight out from the beach this morning. We went out that way ourselves. Here you--Paine, or whatever your name is--we've had enough of this. I've hired you to take us ashore, and I want to go there and not a half mile in another direction. Will you do as I tell you?” When the dingy and the other boats crossed the flat the tide had been hours higher, of course; but I was in no mood to explain--to him. “No,” I said, shortly. “You won't? Then you give me an oar and I'll row the rest of the way myself.” There were only two oars in the skiff, but I could get on perfectly well with one. And it would serve him beautifully right to let him go. But there was the girl. I hesitated. “Give me that oar,” he repeated, angrily. “You won't? Then, by Jove, I'll do without it. Stop! Stop where you are! do you understand. We don't require your services any longer.” He turned and began untying the tow line. I stopped rowing. Miss Colton looked troubled. “Victor!” she cried. “What are you doing?” “I know what I'm doing. Can't you see this fellow's game? The longer the row the higher his price, that's all. He can't work me. I've seen his kind before. Don't be frightened. If we can't do anything else we can anchor and wait until they see us from the house.”